Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Copper
by Jazzola
Summary: A daisy. Sometimes that's all it takes to draw two people together. Galex. T, but be aware that there's lots of rumpy-pumpy in future chapters.
1. Chapter 1

"_Tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor,_

_Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief..."_

"She's doing well, isn't she?"

Alex leaned back against the bench she was currently sharing with Evan White, watching her younger self playing with a girl she vaguely remembered in the little park about five minutes from her old house. It had been five months since the car bomb, and Alex was now firmly sheltered in 1982- it had helped, moving on a year, distanced her that little bit more from the terror and the agonising grief.

Of course, Evan had helped a little, being there for her and working to regain her trust; Alex had a lot more bone to pick with him than he thought, and she was still finding it hard to be around him despite his obvious attempts to get back in her good books. But she had to get used to him again, for if- _when_- she got home. Molly needed her godfather.

No, the main reason she was back to her usual self was currently out on a call somewhere in Fenchurch, with his DS and DC in tow. Gene had been almost kind to her ever since the explosion, treating her in a manner she would have assumed her Neanderthal DCI completely incapable of: he'd allowed her to get drunk but not legless in Luigi's, escorting her upstairs and bidding her goodnight every night, gently urging her to get back to doing ordinary things like going to the gym and shopping, even coming round a few times on the weekend at her request. Alex had to admit to herself that having his company was only part of the reason; he was the stuff of her dreams (literally) in his weekend wear, rugby top or old 70s style shirts over battered jeans and the ever-present snakeskin boots. The number of times she'd had to clench her hands by her sides to prevent herself dragging him into the bedroom and ravishing him to her heart's delight defied belief... but at least the distraction stopped her dwelling on the horrific events of the previous year, and that seemed to be good enough for Gene.

"Much more chirpy," Evan continued abstractly next to her, and Alex dragged herself back to the present, shaking her head to try and rid herself of thoughts of her DCI in her bedroom. Evan frowned.

"You don't think so?"

"No, no, not that, just a fly."

Evan smiled.

"And how are you? Hunt said you were like a zombie after Tim and Caroline died, walking around in an utter daze."

"I'm f- you've been talking to Gene?"

Alex almost fell off the bench in her surprise. Evan simply nodded, his eyes on little Alex, not noticing his companion's shock.

"I've seen him around a couple of times. He lives quite close to me; Alex always wants to talk to him if she sees him, she almost dragged us in front of a car once in her eagerness, as kids do. Thank God Hunt yelled for the car to stop or it would've hit the both of us, bloody driver was reading the newspaper- imagine! Typical cab driver."

Alex frowned; she couldn't remember any such occurences, or any close shaves with a car, but then again, that didn't count for much anymore. Her memories of her life pre-shooting were fading alarmingly fast: she had taken to writing random recollections down in an attempt to salvage them from dying altogether, spending hours each night flicking through her notebooks and listening to Dictaphone recordings. At least it reminded her of Molly- she'd dedicated a whole notebook and hours of recording to her daughter.

"He doesn't tell you to bugger off?"

"Well. He rarely speaks to me, and when he does it's to keep appearances up in front of Alex. I don't think he likes me very much," he said drily, his lip tweaking up. Alex allowed herself a giggle.

"Yes, I thought that would be Gene's attitude."

"Gene, not Hunt or Guv? Do I detect something more than a working relationship here?" Evan murmured, sending her a sly look. Alex flushed red.

"Thought so," Evan chuckled, his eyes flicking between the two little girls playing on the jungle gym and the woman sitting scarlet-faced inches away from him. "I don't blame you, Alex. Gene Hunt is sex on legs, anyone can see that."

Alex turned an even darker shade of crimson.

"Oh no- no, that's not- we haven't-"

"You haven't?" Evan looked incredulous. "Why not? I know Hunt's a dinosaur, but anyone can see that he can be tamed."

Alex shifted, partially out of a slight throbbing down below from thinking about Gene Hunt and herself in the kind of relationship Evan was implying, partially from the awkwardness of talking about sex with the man who had brought her up.

"Well, he's my boss, and- we've both been through difficult relationships before, and he needs to be able to concentrate on his team... it wouldn't work."

Evan frowned, leaning forwards, watching her with a new intensity.

"He's got a heart of gold underneath the gruff exterior. Sweet as pie when he's with Alex. And I heard about Reeks, as well- lending him his suit for a court appearance... look, Alex, I know it would be awkward, seeing as he's your boss, but as long as you ignored pointless station gossip that the pair of you probably attract already, you could be really happy with him."

Alex sighed.

"The drinking, the smoking... And what if we broke up? One of us would have to transfer. Probably me."

Her unwitting godfather let out a growl of frustration.

"You have to stop dwelling on the negatives! A man like Gene wouldn't let you go without a fight. Maybe you've both been hurt in the past, but neither of you strike me as the shrinking violet type, and I happen to know that you've not been idle since you transferred here."

Alex spluttered.

"He told you? Gene, you ba-"

"No, no, not Hunt! He was an acquaintance of mine. Related the tale to me. Also told me that Hunt all but kicked him out of Luigi's the night after your, er, dalliance. Like a lion protecting his lioness, that's how he phrased it."

Evan's eyes were burning into Alex's with an almost painful intensity; she shivered, clamping her jacket further around herself.

"Look, Alex. I know I'm not the best person to be giving relationship advice, but please, come to your senses. Hunt wants you, I'm pretty sure of it, and you want him. You'll have gossip and scandal whatever you do, a high-flying woman like yourself in such a male-dominated society as the Met- it's unavoidable. If you work, you can make it try, I'm sure-"

He was interrupted by a bleeping from his watch; glancing at it, he swore profusely.

"Oh, sorry, Alex. Sorry."

"That's alright," Alex giggled, almost endeared by the look of apology on his face. "You should meet DS Ray Carling someday, he'd make you look like the Pope with his mouth. A sailor would faint."

Evan laughed, gathering his coat and slinging it over his shoulders, calling to Alex.

"Alex? Come on, we've got to get back. I've got an appointment to keep."

Little Alex looked disappointed, but ran over reluctantly, trailing a string of daisies in one hand and a four-leafed clover in the other.

"Look, Evan! I found a four-leafed clover, and me and Michelle made a daisy chain, she said I could have it. We were playing Tinker Tailor Soldier Copper."

"Tinker Tailor Soldier what?" older Alex asked, frowning. The young girl laughed, a peal of bells.

"Tinker Tailor Soldier Copper. Michelle gets seasick, so she says copper instead of sailor. It rhymes too, doesn't it, Evan?"

"Yep," Evan smiled, taking his goddaughter's small hand in his. "It's been lovely talking to you, Alex. We should do this again sometime."

"It's been nice," Alex replied civilly, trying not to think of what she could have been doing while she'd been here. As usual, a certain Mancunian's face cropped up in her thoughts, and she bit back a sigh, waving Evan and little Alex off as her younger self chirruped "Goodbye Alex!" and Evan hurried her towards their house, pausing only to smile and wave back.

As she bent to slide her boots up her legs, Alex's eyes came to rest on a single battered daisy, lying on the grass. It must have fallen off the chain little Alex had been carrying.

She picked it up, twirling it round in her fingers, smiling at the simple beauty of the tiny flower. The petals shone pearly white in the strained spring sunshine, the dainty colours against her baby-pink nail varnish so innocent and girlish it made her want to cry for a second.

Then an idea sprang to mind, and she reached out tentatively with her other hand, picking one petal off and dropping it on the ground at her feet, murmuring under her breath.

"Tinker..."

A second fell to accompany the first; Alex warmed to her game, plucking enthusiastically, grinning sheepishly to herself as she played a game she was about twenty-five years too old for.

"... Tailor, soldier, copper!"

She started as she said the word, pulling the last petal off. She hadn't even realised she'd changed the words to Michelle's game sub-consciously, but it had given her a message she couldn't ignore.

"Thank you, Michelle," she murmured, letting the stem fall from her fingers. Her radio crackled as though on cue, and she eased it from her belt, her face split in a beam as she answered.

"DI Drake."

"Bolly? We got the bastard, get yer delectable arse back ter CID, 'e's a bit frisky an' we'll need yer ter analyse 'im ter sleep when we get there."

Alex bit her lip to stop herself laughing, answering in an annoyed tone; she enjoyed playing these games with Gene, winding him up or allowing him to irritate her, knowing it was just the way he was, a sort of brash macho playfulness that he would always have, it was in his Manchester blood.

The sound of a scuffle distracted them both; there were several yelps from the other end, mostly Cockney curses and Mancunian grunts. Alex rolled her eyes, collecting her coat and shoving the radio in her pocket, heading towards CID. From the sounds of it, "frisky" was a bit of an understatement, and she didn't want DS Carling to get the chance to wreak a repeat performance of last Tuesday. That was almost certainly one bloodline ended permanently.

Had she looked behind her at the daisy lying decapitated on the ground, she would have seen that five of the petals almost seemed to spell out a G.

* * *

><p>"Keep still."<p>

"What the bloody 'ell _is _that?"

"Antiseptic, Gene. Since I doubt you have any in whatever you call home, I'll give you a little bit more-"

"OW!"

"Baby."

_Yes, frisky was an understatement. _Alex sighed as the DCI who had occupied most of her conversation with Evan snatched his arm away from her for the umpteenth time, hissing through his teeth at the pain from his disinfected arm. Trevor Wren had been more like a hawk than his namesake; Ray was sporting a magnificent shiner outside, making out it had been an accident while he slammed Wren into the Quattro, and Chris was in one of the interview rooms having a sprained wrist bandaged up by Shaz. She had been lumbered with the task of cleaning Gene up, or to put it more succinctly, trying to keep him relatively still and only whining a little while she daubed antiseptic on the thick cut on his arm.

"Ideally, you should be getting stitches for this," she sighed at him, dragging an ancient bandage out from the first-aid box; from the looks of it, it hadn't seen the light of day for many a DCI at the helm of the station. She wouldn't have been surprised if boxes similar had been unearthed as fossils. Gene knocked her hands away, pulling his shirt sleeve down and growling at her attempts to roll it up again, managing to edge past her and make a clean getaway into his office. Alex groaned, rolling her eyes in mock annoyance at Shaz, coming in to get some pink wafers for Chris.

"I've asked Chris to keep 'is wrist slinged an' bandaged. Ray looks like 'e forgot to take 'is mascara off last night. 'Ow's the Guv?"

"Stubborn, as usual," Alex replied, trying not to wince at the mental image of DS Carling in mascara, sparkly lip-gloss and a red PVC dress; it was amusing and disturbing in equal measure. Shaz rolled her eyes, reminding Alex for a haunting second of Molly.

"Ah well, only to be expected. You got any plans for tonight? I was gonna go to the flicks with Chris, but with 'is wrist the way it is I think 'e'd be better off stayin' at 'ome."

"Actually, er, I've got someone coming, or at least, I will once I've asked them. Hopefully."

Shaz looked round slyly, almost the exact same look on her face as Evan; Alex wondered if she was auditioning for some kind of imitation show.

"Would that someone be tellin' Ray 'e looks like a pirate workin' as a maths teacher outside?"

They both paused in their conversation, hearing Ray's reply of "It's not that bloody bad, Guv!" over the sniggering of the DCs. Shaz raised her eyebrows, for once managing to look exactly like her own witty self.

"Go on, ma'am. I don't want to see eiver of ya in Luigi's tonight, OK?"

Alex stared at the WPC, her mind beginning to go into overdrive; Shaz laughed.

"Come on, ma'am, a llama could see 'ow fond you are of each uvver. Go an' ask 'im."

Hoping she had made her superior officer see sense, Shaz headed out with her biscuits and a cup of tea, grinning to herself as she plonked the things down on Chris's desk and set about typing up a letter.

* * *

><p>"How's the arm, Guv?" Alex asked ten minutes later, after a trip to the loos to touch up her make-up and some serious psyching up. Gene glanced up at her, conveying with one glance that if she asked him one more poofy question he would either demote her or bend her over his desk as punishment. His groin stirred at the latter, and he shifted uncomfortably, hoping Alex would think it was his arm and not his third leg.<p>

"Did yer come in fer anythin' else, DI Drake?"

He picked up his tumbler of whisky, forgetting to use his good arm; the cut seared with pain, and he prayed she thought it was the sting of the whisky making him wince rather than his injury.

"What're you doing tonight?"

"Annoyin' Luigi. Gettin' pissed. Same old same old. You?"

"I wondered if you'd like to come over to my place tonight. Have dinner with me."

He almost spluttered the whisky out over his desk. He'd been in her place plenty of times, yes, but this was a blatant invitation and said without a hint of tears; this was a whole new ball game compared to her usual tearful summons of him on the phone.

"Depends on the dinner." _What a shit response, you div._

Alex simply smiled. "Well, I hear someone's fond of steak and chips."

Gene inclined his head. "Must be a lot o' little birdies out there then. Yer on. If it's not too much trouble," he added, suddenly panicking. _Don't want ter scare 'er._

His DI laughed. "I wouldn't be asking if it was too much trouble, Guv. So shall we say seven?"

_Well done, Gene. Looking like a complete and utter twonk in front of 'er. Yer may as well go off an' join Ray an' Chris in the art o' bloody mascara. _"Fine. Don't be late."

He realised too late that he was being an idiot again, but Alex just beamed and waltzed out, her hips swaying. Gene's eyes rested firmly on her arse; although she could tell, Alex just walked on, perhaps even exaggerating the swing a little.

Tonight would be entertaining. Evan would be proud.

And, Alex realised with a pang, so would Molly.

* * *

><p>AN: More will be up soon, if people want it! Hope it was enjoyed, and please remember to review. Jazzola

RIP Nelson


	2. Chapter 2

_What would he like best? Slutty, elegant? A mix?_

Alex hummed 'Take The Long Way Home' under her breath as she perused her wardrobe, standing only in her bra and knickers- matching, cherry-red, lots of lace, bought with her DCI subconsciously in mind- and standing on a pile of discarded fabric. _I'll have to tidy up before he comes. Plenty of time, it's only five. I want everything to be perfect._

Trevor Wren's arrest had meant that CID had very little to do for the rest of the afternoon; Gene had dismissed them for an early night, his ulterior motive, she suspected, to go home and ready himself for seven. On their way out, just after reminding him that he should be there for seven (not that he really needed reminding) she'd told him to get a bandage on his arm: whether he'd taken her advice or not, she was curious to find out. Alex had rushed home, showered and started planning her outfit, food, music, the table... pretty much everything she could plan for their night. She smiled inwardly at herself, flicking through hangers and picking out a top, a simple soft peach peasant blouse she'd found at one of the designer shops lining the quieter streets of Fenchurch. _Pair that with a charcoal pencil skirt, and black heels... are stockings too obvious? If I hide them away... yes, like that. And what about make-up? Softer eyeshadow... what compliments the shirt? Just a little bit of black, maybe? Yes, and a little flick at the edge- perfect. Mascara. Little more. Lipstick- keep with paler colours, compliment the peach. Yes, that's nice. That'll have him drooling. Hopefully._

Clothing and face sorted, she headed into the kitchen, frowning. The smell of cooking hardly made for a perfect, romantic date, but she had to find that steak and chips somewhere. _I'm sure Luigi will sort it out for me._

The table now. She moved over to the cutlery drawer, examining the dented forks and scraped knives she found there. _Hardly attractive. Fine for muesli and salad, but is _that _going to cut a steak? _she thought, picking up a battered knife that had, even in the dim light from the candle on the table, seen better days. _It'd be like trying to decapitate someone with a stick. Luigi, I need you to come to the rescue again... at least the tablecloth looks nice._

Sighing over the inadequacies of her flat, and half-wishing they were eating somewhere else, Alex retired to her bedroom to touch up her hair for the fifth time since she'd got home, glancing at the clock. _Ten past five! Oh God..._

* * *

><p>Gene's day wasn't going well.<p>

This morning, he'd stepped out of bed only to find that next door's cat had decided to nap on his rug; a lot of stroking and a can of tuna chunks later and the cat had forgiven him, but the shock of hearing his floor yowl like a banshee had nearly stopped Gene's heart. The old biddy next door would probably give him an earful when he got home for disturbing her, too. Then he'd had a phone call from the Super about his team's discipline, and a mountain of paperwork to fill in on what had happened to the blagger Ray had interviewed the previous week. Finding long words to put in there instead of short ones had taken it out of him; by the time Trevor Wren had been sighted, he'd been contemplating hari-kari with his tie. His arm was aching after its encounter with a piece of metal sticking out of a brick wall. _Bastard builders. _The only light at the end of the tunnel was his date with Alex... and that wasn't just a light, it was more like a supernova, blinding him if he so much as glanced at it.

So Gene pushed it to the back of his mind and concentrated on driving like a maniac home.

His day didn't improve when he parked outside his house, either; Mrs Robinson, leaning out of her window, had spotted the Quattro and had been waiting to give him a bollocking for waking her that morning. Gene managed, with a Herculean effort, to endure her shrieking long enough to run into his house, wherupon he promptly stepped into a puddle of cat vomit and hairball.

"Oh, bloody _hell..._"

The cat, looking rather smug, was perched on his armchair; Gene took a deep breath to prevent himself kicking it, slipping his boot off and propping it upside-down on the stairs while he found some newspaper and the cleaning stuff that had been festering, unused, under the stairs for as long as he could remember.

A can of Ajax and an entire _Daily Herald _later and his hallway finally smelled halfway decent again. Gene washed the sick off his boot, ignoring the twinges of pain from his cut arm. His sleeve was sticking unpleasantly to the ripped skin, jerking at it every time he moved, and when he stripped off to shower it had turned a nasty yellow colour in places, oozing when he gingerly pressed a fingertip to it. _Shit. Maybe Bolly was right. Bloody know-it-all. _The hot water stung, but washed some of the yellow away; assuming that was a good thing, Gene proceeded to ferret out an old bandage from the corner of a cupboard, cautiously wrapping it round the cut. The cat watched contentedly, bright green eyes studying him almost sceptically from underneath a white patch on its head.

"What? Don't fancy it goin' septic," Gene muttered as he passed it, feeling its lamp-like eyes on him as he headed through into the kitchen to get some whisky. The cat mewed.

"No, I don't 'ave that antiseppic stuff. I'll make do."

"Maow?"

"No, I am not wastin' good scotch on my bloody arm."

"Miew."

"No, I don't know why I'm talkin' ter a bloody cat either. Piss off, I 'ave ter get ready. Got a date. Human equivalent o' you shovin' some moggie against a wall an' wakin' everyone up wi' yer shaggin'."

Gene stalked upstairs, resolving to board up the cat flap the previous owner of the house had put in, and started looking over his wardrobe, trying to guess what Alex would like. Not that he'd admit he was getting dressed up solely for his DI. _Blame it on the scotch._

Ten minutes later and he cut his cheek shaving, startled by the sound of the cat yowling downstairs. For the second time that day, he wondered about strangling himself.

"Get out, yer bastard!" he yelled towards the lounge, one hand clasped over the dribble of blood on his face, the other clutching his razor so hard it left an imprint on his hand. The cat mewled in answer, but at least it quietened to allow Gene some peace to get ready.

Eventually he was in the kitchen sinking another whisky, dressed in a dark purple shirt with two buttons undone at the throat, allowing his gold chain to peek through, untucked from grey trousers and ending with his snakeskin boots, recently cleaned. A spritz of Brut and aftershave finished the piece; Gene wondered if London had made him go soft, examining his reflection in the tall hall mirror and wondering whether Alex would laugh or melt. The cat slithered over, rubbing its head against his ankles, leaving orange hairs stuck to his trousers.

"Bugger off!"

The cat fixed him with soulful eyes, rolling onto its back and miaowing up at him, wriggling gently; Gene sighed, bending down to give its belly a tickle, a smile tweaking at his face despite himself as the cat purred, pawing at his hand when he paused to look up at the clock.

"Bloody 'ell, 'ate cats."

_We both know that's not true, _the cat's knowing look seemed to say. Gene groaned.

_Just get out the door before yer start singin' Duran Duran an' wearin' pink socks. Poofter._

He just made it to the Quattro before Mrs Robinson, complaining about more noise, started throwing pot plants at him.

* * *

><p>Ten past seven. Alex chewed her lip, looking in the mirror, then down at herself, and once again out of the window, her whole existence feeling like it was in limbo until Gene arrived. It was utterly unlike him to be late; she couldn't remember the last time he'd rolled into CID past nine, the last time he'd delayed in meeting with her. Her heart thudded as her imagination, ever-vivid, started creating less than pleasant possibilities: had he had an accident? <em>He drives like an idiot at the best of times. What if the dark caught him out? What if nobody's spotted or heard the Quattro going off the road? <em>What if he'd fallen ill? _Would anyone be there to find out? Christ, anything could have happened to him at home alone. He could've fallen, could've collapsed, hit his head, broken his neck, broken his leg, arm, fractured his skull..._

"Bolly?"

Alex almost jumped out of her skin, lost in a waking nightmare of herself rushing to the hospital to find Gene on life support. _I have got to stop reading case files before I go to bed, it's turning me into some kind of reverse hypochondriac._

"Why are you late?" she demanded, opening the door... and almost forgot how to breathe.

Gene was standing there, cradling a bunch of roses that blended perfectly with the deep purple shirt he was sporting, looking decidedly awkward and nervous. She barely noticed him fidgeting as she looked him over, unaware that she was too obscured by the darkness of her hallway for him to do the same with her; the shirt open at the throat, giving her a tantalising glimpse of firm, pale chest, untucked from the grey trousers loose enough to let him move and just tight enough to show off the long, long legs and firmly tapered buttocks... _ooh God. Ooh God. I could have an accident in my knickers with him just standing there._

"Sorry I'm late... went ter pick these up... now can I come in?"

His voice, the plastered-on grumpiness nearly managing to cover some of the hesitation in his tone, shook her out of her trance, and she hurriedly stepped aside, letting the light from the kitchen hit her body.

Gene gulped.

_She looks this good fer me?_

His eyes drank in her beauty, the slim body emphasised and complimented by the peasant blouse, her skin set aglow and her hair afire by the soft, feminine colours, the slim charcoal skirt, perfect legs in sheer stockings (at least he _hoped_- no, _prayed _they were) and topped off by simple, classic black heels. Utterly beautiful. Utterly stunning... and all for him. Gene wondered somewhere in the back of his mind if people could die from an overdose of gorgeousness.

"Well, are you coming in?" Alex asked gently, her cheeks glowing with a mixture of pleasure and blusher. _He notices... and he likes!_

Gene stepped over the threshold, swallowing hard as he pressed the roses into her hands. White roses, glamorous and a little different to the norm. Not cheap either, from the looks of them.

"Thank you, Gene. They're beautiful," she murmured, lifting them to her face to smell them, finding a mixture of sublime rose fragrance and something else, something more masculine, passionate, that she assumed must be from Gene carrying them. A combination of a deep, strangely firm scent that she assumed was just Gene himself, and something a little more tangy. _Brut. _She remembered buying it for a male friend sometime in the 2000s, when older scents were more in fashion; it hadn't fitted him, a meek young man working in IT, but it blended into an aroma she couldn't imagine Gene without.

"So're you," Gene muttered, wondering if his cheeks were bright red. _Long time since I complimented a woman... got ter get back inter practice. _Alex's head snapped up, a beam appearing on her face.

"Thank you, Gene. You're looking very good yourself."

She motioned to the dark purple shirt, already certain that it would be starring in several fantasies if this evening didn't end the way her subconscious had planned. _God, could he look much more edible? Sod the steak, I'd prefer to be getting my lips round something just as juicy with him in that..._

"Cheers," Gene grunted. _Got ter get back inter practice at receivin' them too._

"So," Alex said confidently, placing the roses in a vase filled with water (put there in anticipation) and reverting to her hostess-with-the-mostest attitude. "Shall we adjourn to the kitchen? Steak and chips awaits."

Gene's eyes gleamed.

"Sounds good." His eyes raked her body once again, savouring her like a connoisseur. _Although somethin' looks better..._

Alex moved slightly closer to him on their way to the kitchen, brushing his hand gently as she moved over to the table; Gene smiled, hurrying over to draw out her chair for her, admiring the view as she sat down. _Christ... won't be able ter restrain myself if we're eatin' fer too long._

Alex got a good look at his own sculpted rear as he moved over to sit down, licking her lips while his back was turned. _Dear Jesus... won't be able to restrain myself if we take too long over dinner._

Gene perched almost nervously on Alex's opposite chair, butterflies not so much swarming in his stomach as attacking it. For a moment he wondered if he was going to be sick. _Oh please God, let me 'old me bloody breakfast in. _He wondered if the lack of food would send him over the edge... but when Alex started cutting up her steak, pouring wine for both of them, he managed to resurrect his appetite, his eyes fixed on her lips as she chewed, oblivious to the fact that hers were also hungrily devouring the sight of him along with her mouthful of beef.

"Cheers," he said in a voice that sounded a little unlike his own, holding up the wineglass. Alex reciprocated his actions, clinking the glasses together as they drank in synchronisation, eyes never leaving each others'.

Gradually, a mixture of the wine, food and gentle atmosphere relaxed both of them; Gene realised with relief that, after his third mouthful of steak, the butterflies seemed to have stopped knifing his insides, and Alex, having seen his shoulders gradually lose their tense stance, was beginning to slip into being Alex rather than Alex Drake, making little jokes and sarcastic comebacks, delighting in each time Gene's eyes lit up with laughter or glee or passion. Talk flowed easily after the third glass of wine, but when Alex offered more Gene declined it, wanting a clear head for the rest of the evening, and so she did the same, not wanting him to be too drunk to keep up with her- plans- for the rest of the evening.

Eventually the plates were stacked in the sink, cutlery sluiced off and returned to Luigi; both had tried to ignore his warbling of "ah, belle amore..." for the subsequent half an hour, stifling laughter each time his strong Italian voice drifted up through the floor. Luigi's was quiet, with most of the team less rowdy for the absence of their DCI; Gene and Alex were in near silence in the flat, Gene slouched on the sofa with Alex sitting at his feet, idly playing with his socks.

"You full? I didn't think of pudding," she murmured, poking a finger in between his toes. Gene grinned.

"Really? I found somethin' just as good."

"What?" Alex asked, expecting him to produce a cake or something from some invisible pocket for a mad second. He rolled his eyes, reaching out to pull her into a one-armed hug.

"You, yer daft bint."

Alex blushed profusely, intoxicated by the sound of his chuckling, the gentle lull of his heart on her cheek as he held her, the lazy rhythm slow and assured against her.

"Thank you."

Gene squeezed her gently, frowning as he heard something rustling from her pocket; Alex, already red, blushed scarlet. _Oh no... oh no... please don't, Gene... not yet..._

"Bolly?"

Seeing only one option- hide it under the sofa- Alex gave him a slightly shaky coy look, slipped out from under his arm and dived to the floor.

_Eh?_

Gene, slightly confused now, laughed at her, sliding off the sofa himself, tickling her to distract her; Alex doubled up laughing, trying to fend him off with shrieks of "GENE! STOP IT, PLEASE- AH, GENE!", just about registering his laughter, a big kid again, as he scrabbled for whatever it was she was trying to hide. _Ah shit!_

Gene stopped abruptly as his fingers found the familiar smooth packet, his eyes widening as he lifted it to eye level, Alex lapsing into a shocked silence.

Sitting innocently between his fingers was a condom, still in its packaging.

After a few more seconds of speechlessness, Gene's tongue untied itself, just about capable of speech again.

"Well, well, Bolly. Decided ter come prepared, did we?"

Alex bit her lip, a smile threatening her cheeks at the same time as wetness pooled between her thighs at the sight of him, holding the condom packet, a sly smirk on his face. _You didn't have to put quite so much effort on the word "come", you smug bastard._

"It's what I was taught at posh girl school, Gene... plan ahead..."

It was reckless to pretty much tell Gene that this was a planned seduction, but Alex, beginning to think with her groin rather than her brain, threw caution to the winds, staring him straight in the eyes, her cheeks red but her gaze straight. The grin dropped from Gene's lips as though it had turned to lead.

"You- you serious?"

Alex simply nodded.

Gene held her gaze for a second longer, and then, unable to bear another second of this exquisite torture, dipped his head and met her lips with his.

_Oh God._

She'd guessed he'd be a good kisser, but this was off the Richter Scale. His lips worked hers sensuously, rhythmically, finding what she liked and repeating, caressing her tongue with his as he lapped at the seam of her mouth, gently requesting permission. She allowed him in with a sigh, tasting his masculine, musky, oh so human tongue, gentle and insistent at the same time, giving her a silent choice for who would take dominance.

_Right, Alex, you're a modern girl. Time to take control._

Gene murmured against her lips as she forced his tongue away, thrusting her own into his mouth; the taste of him grew stronger, all but overwhelming her, his moistness and softness so nearly her undoing. Her lips curved upwards as she felt him backing down, physically shrinking away as she assaulted his tongue with hers, opening her eyes briefly to see his closed, the elegant eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks.

Taking pity on him, she relented, softening her bruising kiss; he pulled away carefully, giving her lips one last caress before drawing too far away for her to reach him. Alex moaned with loss, opening her eyes to see his swollen lips and brightened eyes, the quirky smile she was growing to adore.

"I think we should take this ter the bedroom, Bolly."

Alex cocked her head on one side, a devilish grin playing about her thoroughly-kissed lips; Gene wondered if there was any blood left in the rest of his body to rush southwards.

"Mm, yes, sounds a good idea to me..."

Gene's eyebrows rose.

"Good?"

Alex giggled huskily, her grin widening as he groaned lightly, the roguishly-innocent sound too much for him to bear.

"Alright then, incredibly temping, amazing, utterly desirable, and completely fucking fandabbydosy!"

She laughed out loud as Gene pulled away from her, sweeping her up into his arms and planting his lips on hers again, his eyes bright and yet dark with lust as he bore her into her bedroom, laying her gently on the bed and sitting back on his haunches, perched on the edge, his eyes seeking her permission to continue.

"Gene," Alex panted, suddenly breathless with the change of atmosphere: here he was, the Manc Lion, hers and only hers, utterly magnificent, at her command. He smiled gently, such a contrast to the DCI she knew she wondered briefly whether this was the same man.

"Gene. Undress me," she whispered, her eyes boring into his- or was it the other way around? She couldn't tell- as they held each other's gaze, electricity arcing through the air between them, spitting and crackling in time with Alex's ragged breathing, the unsteady, nervous thump of Gene's heart. He ducked his head, the smile still playing round his lips; he seemed unable to remove it.

As though he was touching some precious, irreparable and irreplacable jewel, the most valuable item in the universe, Gene reached out to draw her shoes off, his first choice surprising Alex somewhat. _I would've thought he liked that kind of thing... _Catching her gaze, Gene chuckled, lifting his shirt- but only to show her a crescent-shaped scar on his side, letting her reach out and caress it, his skin shuddering deliciously at her touch.

"That's the last time I was in bed wi' a woman wearin' 'igh 'eels. Dug 'em right in, the bitch. Not keen ter 'ave a repeat performance."

Alex giggled, lying back down again, her chest jumping as she saw his groin twitch at the sound of her mirth. The throbbing between her legs went up a notch.

"I'm waiting, Gene. Didn't you know you should never keep a lady waiting?"

Gene growled, deep in his throat; Alex wondered if she would be able to set the bed on fire with her now very obvious arousal.

His skilled fingers reached out, finding the zip on the skirt and carefully pulling it out from underneath her bottom, the friction hyping her up until she was nearly at fever pitch; his eyes widened at the sight of the stockings and suspenders, the tent in his trousers lengthening. Alex's body wriggled of its own accord, desperate for him to touch her, free her: he continued with his mission, slipping her blouse away, running his fingers tenderly over the underwear as he looked up at her, head cocked. Alex smiled, brushing his hands away despite her body's obvious wants.

"No, no. My turn."

She stood up, beckoning to the bed she had just been laid on; Gene slid up to take her place, silently wondering if it was possible to pass out with a mixture of nervousness and anticipation as Alex ran her fingers up his legs, easing his socks off and depositing them on the floor, taking one big toe into her hot wet mouth and sucking eagerly as he let his head fall back, his erection straining at his zip.

"Ah Christ... Bolls, if yer want me ter last, yer goin' ter 'ave ter stop that!"

Alex released his toe with a playful grin plastered over her face, her fingers sliding up to undo his belt and slip it out of his trousers, making sure to brush his groin on the way. He hissed through his teeth at the sensations, unable to remember how long it had been since he had been this turned on... maybe, he surmised, never...

_Oh God!_

His thoughts were rapidly dispatched elsewhere when she undid his fly, slipping his trousers down to find black boxers struggling to hold on to a very impressive manhood. Gene swore fluently as she ran her fingers over it, grinning devilishly at him, a seductress of pure pleasure, and released the buttons of his shirt one by one, exposing the pale, scarred skin of his chest.

"_Gene..._" she breathed, pressing her fingers to his nipples; her eyes roved his skin, the rapid rise and fall, each detail and imperfection and plain of skin logged as she gently touched a ragged scar running down from his throat to his breast bone, curious. _That can wait for another day, Alex. _She looked down at his arm, seeing the bandage over the cut, grinning at him as he followed her line of sight and huffed, unable to keep a grin off his face.

Running her fingers over the bandage, Alex sat up, simply drinking him in, the gold chain slick with sweat lying like a collar over his neck, his eyes fixed on hers as she finally locked gazes with him, reaching down to slip the suspender belt and stockings off herself, revealing her half-naked body to his hungry gaze.

"Oh, Bolls... oh God, you're... more gorgeous than I ever thought yer'd be," Gene whispered as she spread herself to him, soaked and desirous, her lips parted and her chest in delicious anguish as she invited him in, beaming at his form crouching in front of her.

"Please," she whispered, tilting her hips up to his mouth in invitation, her eyes beseeching as she touched his arm. Gene bit his lip.

"I..."

"What is it?"

"I've never done that before," Gene whispered in a rush, ashamed, dropping his head along with his reputation as an unparallelled lover. His wife had been very much of the 'lie back and think of England' persuasion, enthusiastic but not exotic, and he'd had precious few women since then, choosing not to employ hookers, only one woman topmost in his mind. Alex's lips opened in surprise, but almost as quickly curved into a smile.

"Don't worry. Just swipe your tongue over me and- and penetrate if you want. With your fingers and tongue. It should come naturally."

She reached out with a shaking hand, touching Gene's cheek tenderly, stroking over his jaw as his eyes, dark with want, fixed on her womanhood.

Slowly, oh so slowly drawing out the anticipation, Gene ducked his head and carefully, almost reverently, swiped his tongue over Alex's swollen clit.

His eyes widened in shock at her response, as she arced her hips up, gasping hard at the sensations.

_Right... so just... do that... yes, she likes that. Naughty Bolls. What else?_

Gene reached up with one determinedly steady hand, slipping a finger in through her wet folds, feeling rather than seeing her pleasure as he slipped it into her, curling, rubbing her sweet spot, holding her hips down gently as she bucked against him. Alex was almost weeping with desire, panting, more aroused than she'd ever been in her life- or even in this strange sort of afterlife.

"Not... going- to last..." she cried out as he drove her to the brink, teetering on the precipice, only just seeing Gene's devilish grin and his lips, shining with her ecstasy, as he eased her over with an almost careless flick of his tongue.

He watched with astonishment, and a little smug pride, as Alex Drake shattered under his fingers and mouth.

Slowly returning to earth, Alex reached out to Gene, needing him in her arms; seeing what she wanted, Gene clambered up next to her, snuggling her into his arms as her breathing steadied, smiling as she bent her head to suck gently at his nipple.

"Nice," he whispered, dropping a kiss on her cheek and then, as she resurfaced, one on her lips. Alex beamed, still slightly dazed, feeling unbelievably brazen lying on her bed half-naked with Gene Hunt.

"Well, that was fantastic- but I couldn't help seeing that someone missed out," she murmured, reaching down to brush her fingertips over his raging erection. He eased over onto his back, pulling her with him, damp fingers reaching behind her back to undo her bra, dropping it on the floor next to the bed as Alex flashed her sexiest smile, moaning softly at the feel of his mouth on her breast.

"Time fer my puddin'," Gene whispered, and Alex's breath caught in her throat as she realised what he was about to do.

"Let me serve you," she murmured, flipping them over so that she was on top of Gene, straddling his groin as he moaned, the feel of her dampness on his boxers too much.

The next thing he knew, his boxers had joined Alex's underwear on the floor as his DI wriggled sensuously down his body, eyes fixed on his as she opened her mouth wide and slipped it down onto his penis.

"Ohh... Christ!"

His obscene groan was enough to tell her that he was more than happy; Alex grinned around his manhood, sucking and licking as he hissed through his teeth, mingled curses and endearments tumbling from his panting mouth as every inch of him (and there were definitely more than average, Alex thought) seemed to scream with joy.

"Bolly... stop- stop!"

Alex looked up, confused: it had been going so well, what...?

And then he eased down, matching her body with his, and scrabbled around on the mattress, picking up a small crackling something.

Alex grinned as he ripped the condom out of its packet, reaching down shakily to slip it on, brushing her clit as he eased into position, letting her take the lead.

"Yer a modern girl," he whispered. She bent her head, smothering his lips in hers as she eased down, taking all of him in, both of them gasping into each other's mouths as though exchanging souls.

She slowly began to move up and down, Gene matching her thrust for thrust, the pleasure ricocheting throughout both their bodies as their coupling grew more energetic; the bed creaked like a tree in a hurricane, and for some reason they both laughed breathlessly, lips descending onto each others' and tongues tangling feverishly as Gene eased himself up, twisting them over until he was on top, an alpha male once again.

Alex opened eyes heavily lidded with desire, watching Gene pounding into her, face contorted in beautiful concentration, such an erotic and magnificent sight she felt herself dampening just watching him. The tingle around her legs started, enveloping her lower body in delicious heat; she moaned, thrusting harder at Gene, just registering him clutching her hips harder as the friction built, threatening to cast them both over the edge...

"GENE!"

_Was that really me... ooh God... yes!_

With a scream of pure delight, Alex hurtled into white light, feeling the spurt as Gene joined her, crying out as he tumbled onto the bed beside her, his body wracked with exquisite shakes in the aftermath of what felt like a taste of something even better than heaven.

Gradually, heart rates returned to normal, consciousnesses returned to earth.

Gene tilted his head to look at her, so relaxed and sated, completely different to his moody, shouty DI Drake. As though she was made of china, he reached out to brush his lips over hers once again, murmuring happily at the taste of her, marking her as his. _Yer've already done that, yer idiot._

Alex smiled, opening her eyes in the state of pure bliss she was currently enjoying: Gene was hovering above her, like a sweaty, tousled angel, brilliant eyes fixed on hers, a shy smile curving his mouth. _I have never seen anything this handsome. Oh, Gene._

"You really are a legendary lover, then?" she whispered, shuffling over to rest her head on his chest. Gene chuckled softly.

"You never doubted it, Bolly."

"Fair enough," she mumbled, closing her eyes and drawing the covers up over herself and Gene. He stroked her hair, coccooning her in himself as she snuggled up against him, kissing his neck.

"Sweet dreams, Bolly," he murmured, reaching out carefully to turn the light off, looking back to find that Alex was already asleep, snuffling gently into his chest.

With her sweet warmth and gentle weight, Gene was out like a light.

In the street outside, a cat with a white-patched head regarded the dark window curiously, mewing gently as it leapt up onto the bright red bonnet of the Quattro, curling up to sleep.

* * *

><p>The next morning went marginally better than the previous one for Gene.<p>

Stepping out of bed, his feet found Alex's discarded bra rather than an old moggy; Luigi only gave him a beam and a wink, rather than a bollocking, as he slipped out to get the overnight bag he'd stowed in the Quattro just in case, making sure to leave a note pinned to the tablecloth for if he'd woken Alex up getting out of bed. He felt like a man on top of the world, yanking the boot up and picking his holdall up, sliding it onto his shoulder as he closed the car again, belatedly spotting a familiar cat standing on the roof, green eyes boring into him.

"You again? Yer like a bloody stalker."

The cat whined piteously, padding over to rub its cheek against his trouser leg. Gene relented.

"Come on then. Bolly likes cats. Let's see if we can get yer some breakfast."

Ignoring the inner voice screaming _poofter!_, Gene picked the cat up and held it against his chest, cradling it with a newfound appreciation for animals as he headed back into Alex's flat, only pausing to lock the Quattro.

Had he looked up at the window, he would have seen Alex's beam as he held the cat, and the happy tears that spilled from her eyes.

As the cat glanced up at her, her movement attracting its attention, its somewhat intelligent gaze reminded her of Molly.

_She would be so proud._

If she couldn't be with her daughter, at least Alex could live her life by Molly's main principle: happiness.

* * *

><p>AN: Gosh, that turned out a bit longer than it was originally intended to! Hehe, ah well. Hope you enjoyed it, and please remember to review- a choice of chocolate muffins, pizza slices and fruit pastilles for all reviewers. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed, and review! Jazzola


	3. Chapter 3

As the door opened and closed lightly outside, heralding Gene's entry, Alex was waiting in bed, the sheets draped loosely over her body, for when Gene returned, smelling faintly of cat and tuna chunks. She raised her eyebrows at him, reaching out to pick a cat hair off his shirt; he gave a slightly sheepish smile, stripping the shirt off, much to her delight.

"There's, er, a cat in yer lounge. It's, er, sort of mine. Sorry, the bastard followed me in the Quattro, must've got in when I opened the door." He had the grace to look fairly contrite, but Alex just smiled.

"That's OK. As long as the furnishings are safe."

"It's fast asleep. I'll pay yer back fer the tuna chunks."

Alex rolled her eyes at him, rolling over to make space for him as he shed his trousers, pulling at his boxers as he lay down next to her. Gene grinned, happily pulling them off and over his legs, pulling her close and spooning her to his body, one hand resting on her hair and the other on her stomach. Alex nuzzled into his arm, acting as her pillow, a beam on her face as she reached round to stroke his hip.

"What exactly were you thinking we were going to do today?"

"Eh? I didn' think we'd be gettin' out o' bed. 'Cept ter go an' get another rubber johnny."

"Gene! You can't just stay in bed the whole day. Good Lord, how _did _your mother cope with you as a teenager?"

Gene sniffed, curling up against his DI and nuzzling her ear, grinning at her sharp intake of breath. One hand strayed down to her breast, idly pinching and caressing the nipple; she felt moisture flood her core, shifting to give him easier access to her chest, groaning happily into his mouth as he pressed it to hers.

"You sure yer want ter get up, Bolls?"

His fingers started stroking in between her legs, slipping into her soaking folds and pumping gently, a devilish grin on his face; Alex moaned, tipping her hips up, opening her eyes to see him as he rubbed her G-spot, eyes slightly absent in their concentration but snapping back to hers as she leaned up, licking his nipple on her way to whisper seductively in his ear.

"Gene- go and get another condom."

* * *

><p>Twenty minutes later and they were finally sated, and- amazingly- had made the difficult journey from bed to sofa. Both had neglected to get dressed, however; the cat was regarding both curiously from a chair as Alex lay watching the news and Gene dozed on her stomach, nuzzling into the soft skin occasionally.<p>

"I've never watched the news naked with an equally naked man before," Alex said contentedly, reaching down to curl a lock of Gene's hair round her fingers. Gene opened his eyes, reaching up to slide his fingers into her hair, winding her fringe round his thumb.

"First time fer everythin', Bolls. Yer tryin' ter give me a perm? Ouch!"

At the sight of Gene, so comfortable and self-assured with her, Alex's fingers had tightened in his hair, threatening to yank it out of his skull; hurriedly apologising, Alex released her DCI's hair, watching him rubbing his scalp grumpily, that famous pout on his lips.

"Sorry."

Gene smoothed his hair back into place self-consciously, shifting slightly on the sofa to accommodate his long legs; his gaze fell on the cat, and he felt his cheeks growing hot, hastily burying them in Alex's chest to hide them.

"You alright? You're burning up," Alex said from somewhere above him, concern in her voice. He nodded, making her breasts jiggle; he liked the sensation, and promptly decided to do it again. Alex sighed.

"What is it with men and tits? Desist."

"Fun," came the muffled voice from her chest.

"Gene, you really are- ooh!"

Gene cut her off by taking one nipple in his mouth, sucking hard, grazing his teeth over the sensitive nub; Alex's sentence trailed off as the pleasure shot through her body, gathering into a hum of delight between her thighs.

"Mmm, just there, Gene, just there... harder... please..."

The cat mewled abruptly from its armchair, making both jump: Gene all but leapt off the sofa, groaning.

"Bloody 'ell, no privacy anywhere, is there?"

"Where're you going? I was enjoying that!" Alex complained, standing up as Gene headed back into the bedroom, grabbing his clothes and tugging them on. "Gene!"

"That cat keeps starin' at me bollock-naked," Gene muttered, doing up half his shirt and yanking his trousers on, pausing to stare at her as she doubled up laughing, clutching her wardrobe for support. "Oh, thanks, Bolly!"

"The great Manc Lion, all embarrassed and self-conscious because of a cat," Alex hooted, pulling him into a hug as he pouted, one leg in his trousers. "Now, why don't we let the cat have another snooze in the lounge, and move our- er- activities to here?"

Gene considered, his eyes gleaming. _Bloody 'ell, this is goin' ter be good. Bolly-Kecks is insatiable._

"I was just gettin' the feel fer sofa sex," he whined petulantly, lip stuck firmly out; at the sound of his irritated voice, the cat stalked over, rubbing against his legs. Gene grinned in triumph, pulling Alex out of the room and shutting the door in an instant as the cat tried to bolt out and found its exit abruptly blocked.

"There," Gene announced, sounding incredibly self-satisfied for a man who had achieved the feat of shutting a cat in a bedroom. Alex looked confused.

"How did that work?"

"Cat always comes when I start complainin'. Always reckons 'e can get a stroke out o' bein' there for yer. Never mind the soddin' cat, we can carry on now..."

* * *

><p>By the time the evening drew in, it became very clear that Gene would not be returning home tonight.<p>

However, Alex had had to run to the pharmacist's to get another box of condoms. And then on to the supermarket so that they actually had something to eat tomorrow. She wasn't planning on leaving the flat- and hopefully Gene's arms- for something as trivial as food.

As she let herself in, cheeks still slightly red after the desk girl's look at the pharmacist's, she realised that a certain someone had vanished, turning the lights out in the flat and locking the door behind them; depositing the pharmacy box on the table, Alex did a quick tour of the flat, finding it decidedly vacated. The cat was snoozing on the sofa, completely at ease; Alex didn't know if he would, but reasoned that if he was going home, surely he would take the cat with him?

As she did another round of her home, panic began to set in. Had he had second thoughts? Was this some kind of trick?

"Gene? Gene, where are you? Gene?"

Alex stopped dead in the middle of the lounge, rubbing the bridge of her nose in confusion. _Gene, you bastard. When I next see you, I am going to kill you._

"Bolly?"

She swerved round so abruptly she knocked a wineglass off the arm of the sofa, spilling white wine all over her trouser leg. Gene was standing in the doorway, rumpled and tousled, his shirt stained with something dark, one arm in a sling.

"Gene, what's happened?" she asked, hurrying over to lead him to the sofa and chivvying the somewhat confused and indignant cat off for him to sit down. His eyes were dark and sunken, haunted; Alex lifted her hand to stroke his hair, feeling her heart skipping a beat as he leaned into her touch, utterly defeated.

"Ray came in just after yer left. 'Ostage situation down by the docks."

_I know those all too well._

"Go on."

"There was a kid bein' 'eld 'ostage. Little girl, five years old. Terrified. Cryin'... the bastard took me 'ostage too. I was tryin' ter comfort 'er. I said I needed ter phone yer, but 'e wouldn' let me. Someone stepped too close. Next thing I knew 'e'd shot the girl an' turned the gun on me. 'E got my arm, just a flesh wound. Ray shot 'im before 'e could do anythin' else. I 'eld the girl until the ambulance got there. No use. She- she died. In my arms. Beggin' me ter 'elp 'er. I- I tried, Bolls... I should've... done somethin'. She was only a kid..."

"Oh, Gene," Alex whispered, putting both arms round her lover and pulling him carefully towards her, resting his head on her shoulder. "It's not your fault. Please, Gene, you couldn't have done anything. Gene... G- oh, my darling."

She stopped short as she felt two damp patches soaking into her top, heard a faint gasp as Gene buried his face in her top, wrapping his good arm round her back to keep himself in place.

"Hey, hey," Alex whispered, pressing her lips to his crown, rubbing up and down his back gently, careful to give him as much privacy as he needed. Despite the awful situation, she felt strangely honoured: honoured that Gene would show her his emotions this freely, confide in her like this. All she could think to do was comfort him and help him, simply be there for him, just like he had been there for her so many times, so many invaluable times when she had been lost and he had found her. That was all she could do and it was what she wanted to do, sat here with a man injured in body and mind, a man she had, albeit reluctantly, fallen completely in love with.

He could only have been there for thirty seconds before he wiped his face wearily with his injured hand, resurfacing to glance up at his partner and nod sheepishly, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek as his face burned with embarrassment. Alex smiled softly, standing up and holding her hand out to him, glancing towards the bedroom. Gene sighed.

"I don't think that'll 'appen tonight, Bolls."

"No, I didn't think so either. But we as psychologists are trained to know when someone needs a hug and to offload something, and you're showing every sign of both I can think of. So we can lie down together and if you want, you can talk, and if you don't want, I can just hold you. Simple as that."

Gene nodded tiredly, exhaustion beginning to show; Alex took his good hand, pausing to take him in fully, something she hadn't had time to do yet. His arm was bandaged but mobile, his shirt front slick with blood. Gene saw the direction of her eyes, touching his shirt as he spoke.

"Most of it's not my blood. The little girl's. Christ, Bolls... I didn' even know 'er name..."

"Hey, hey. Come on."

He ducked his head, letting her help him to stand up and lead him through into the bedroom.

Alex stripped him carefully, gently, leaving his boxers in place for decency; his chest was liberally coated with scarlet, his arm sore and cumbersome. She fetched a damp flannel and he washed the blood off his skin, lying down on the bed and closing his eyes as Alex undressed and slipped in beside him, putting her hand on his stomach for reassurance. Gene lifted it to his lips, kissing each of her knuckles, hugging her arm to his damp chest as she stroked his cheek, waiting for him to speak or sleep, torn between assessing him or just cuddling up to him and falling asleep beside him.

Just when she thought he had gone to sleep and she should too, he spoke.

"Yer not goin' anywhere tonight, are yer?"

"Of course not. I'm staying right here with you."

The ghost of a smile flitted over Gene's face, but quickly disappeared.

"'S not the first time someone's died in my arms."

He said it in almost a begging tone, trying to make sense of these strange things called emotions, things he'd never dwelled on before and wished he didn't need; Alex nodded, despite knowing he couldn't see her.

"Stu. My brother. I 'eld 'im while 'e died too. Covered in piss an' sick an' drug residue, in a stinkin' alleyway in Manchester, but I still sat an' 'eld 'im an' talked ter 'im while 'e died. Yer 'ave ter learn ter do it... normally I'm not affected by it."

"I can tell that's a lie," Alex said quietly, putting her fingers on his forehead. Gene huffed.

"I'm not goin' ter spill my guts out ter yer like a bloody jessie. OK, so they do affect me. 'Appy now?"

"Oh, Gene. I never said it made you weak, or stupid, or a "jessie". It makes you a good, decent person, someone who devotes themselves to helping others despite seeing the shit that life throws at people like them. You held that little girl and you comforted her while she died. What more could a child ask for?"

Gene half-opened his eyes, meeting her hazel-green gaze through a haze of sleep and tears.

"A life, Bolly. The chance ter 'ave 'er God-given gift. She was five. _Five, _for Christ's sake. She 'adn't even started."

"And you didn't take it away from her. The bastard who shot the two of you did. Gene, you gave that little girl the love she needed when she needed it most. That's all she could have asked of you. If you'd stepped in front of the bullet it wouldn't have changed anything, he was shooting at her, he was going to kill her whatever you did. You would've died as well, and then where would I be? Up Shit Creek without a paddle. Please, Gene, it's OK. Get some sleep. You'll feel better in the morning."

He watched her sleepily, and then, too exhausted to stay awake, closed his eyes and slipped into sleep.

Alex stayed where she was, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, until the doorbell rang at five to midnight; swearing under her breath, Alex grabbed her dressing gown and headed through, coming face to face with DS Ray Carling on her doorstep, dressed in a clown costume. She raised her eyebrows.

"Chris' idea. Try ter distract the gunman," Ray muttered, unable to meet her eyes. Alex smirked.

"I'll ask Shaz for the truth on Monday. Sorry, the Guv's fast asleep and I don't want you waking him up, so I won't invite you in."

"Was just checkin' 'e got 'ome OK. 'E wasn' in, so I came 'ere thinkin' it was the other place 'e might be. 'E was in a bit of a state."

"I can imagine. He held a girl in his arms as she died, he's bound to be a bit upset. I'll get back to him, if you don't mind, Ray, I'm dog-tired too."

Ray nodded, ducking out and stopping short as he caught sight of something on the shelf next to the door.

"Ma'am...?"

A new grin on his face, he pointed to the pharmacy bag, clearly slowing the box of condoms. Alex groaned, throwing it onto the sofa and all but pushing Ray out of the flat.

"None of your business, DS Carling."

"Bet it's the Guv's business," Ray answered slyly, a glint in his eye. Alex rolled hers.

"Go on."

Ray ducked back out of the doorway, making to head down the stairs.

"Oh, Ray?"

"Yeah?"

"The little girl. Do you know what her name was?"

Ray let his gaze fall, the clown costume suddenly seeming utterly out of place with his miserable expression.

"Joy. 'Er name was Joy."

A tear spilled from Alex's eyelashes onto her dressing gown.

"OK, Ray. Goodnight."

* * *

><p>In the bedroom, Gene sat propped up on his good arm, listening to his DS and DI's chatter outside the room. He was about to go back to sleep, convinced they were just exchanging banter over the condom box and not really caring, when Alex's voice caught his attention.<p>

"The little girl. Do you know what her name was?"

His heart leapt in the brief silence before Ray's answer.

"Joy. 'Er name was Joy."

_Joy._

He bent his head, pressing his lips tightly together to stop himself blubbering like a soft nancy. If only he could have asked that little girl herself what her name was.

Shutting his eyes tight, Gene let himself fall back onto the mattress, unable to stop one sole tear sneaking out and down his cheek, pooling in the shell of his ear.

A tear for a life cruelly taken.

* * *

><p>Waking up the next morning, Gene expected to feel shaken, empty, the same as every other time when he had been through something particularly nasty at work, but somehow Alex's arm over his chest seemed to stave the emptiness off. He didn't feel on top of the world, but that was to be expected. He was mourning for little Joy. Happiness would come when it would.<p>

Slipping out from Alex's arms, Gene found some spare clothes and his long dressing gown and headed through into the kitchen, putting the kettle on and shoving some bacon in a pan, buttering two huge doorstep slices of bread thickly and leaning heavily against the surface, his legs not quite able to take his full weight just yet. His bandaged arm throbbed, blood beginning to show on the outside of the bandages; he resolved to ask Alex about it later, somehow managing to make the bacon sandwich one-handed and slowly eating it, his eyes closed.

He must have dropped off in the chair, he wasn't sure; the next thing he knew was the dingy room in the docks once again, Joy snuggled into his stomach, clinging to his arm as though her hold alone could save them both. He had his arms round her, was whispering sweet nothings to her, and then the man turned and he was trying to protect Joy, but he was too late, his arm burned, Joy was screaming, blood everywhere, so much, so much, so much _blood, _she was dying in his arms all over again, he could've done something, _something-_

"Gene! Gene, wake up. Gene?"

He snapped awake in Alex's careful hold, his whole body wracked with pain. He could tell she knew what his subconscious had just brought up. The big tough Manc Lion, reduced to a little boy having nightmares in front of possibly the sexiest woman in London. She would never be able to understand, but that didn't make it any better. He almost gave up then and there, through the sheer hopelessness of it all.

It was all he could do suddenly to lean against her as she took him through into the lounge and sat him on the sofa, propping his injured arm up with cushions, easing the bandages off to take a look, all the while stroking his hair, whispering reassurance that he was sure should have meant nothing, but somehow felt the world to him.

Even he hadn't properly seen the bullet wound yet, all he'd really seen was a lot of blood; Alex hissed in sympathy as she uncovered a heavily stitched wound, blood soaking into the bandages either side.

"God, Gene, that must be agony."

_Much less than when I was watchin' Joy die._

"'S fine."

"You sure?"

Gene nodded, looking away, suddenly nauseated. He'd seen too much blood these past few hours.

Alex bandaged him quickly and expertly, wiping her hands and plumping down beside him when she was done, holding out an arm in invitation; Gene slipped silently into her embrace, trying to kid himself it was for her benefit. Neither of them spoke. The cat slid in, leaping up onto Gene's lap and nuzzling his face, seeming to look straight through him with its lamp-like eyes.

"It's all shit," he murmured as the cat curled up on his stomach, licking his shirt before getting down to the serious business of falling asleep. "It's all shit."

"It's not all shit. Just we tend to see only the shit," Alex murmured, stroking her partner's shoulder. "You're the one people turn to to sort the shit out. You're a good, brave man."

Gene, finding himself closer to tears than any Manchester man should ever be, put a finger out to stroke the cat, frowning as the soft breathing turned to purrs.

"Animals get it bloody easy."

"Nice try to change the subject, Gene. I know you don't do talking. I'm not asking that you do. But you have to trust me, yeah? I can help you. We're stronger together than divided. Especially me."

He bent his head again, only this time it was so that nobody could see the tiny hopeful smile that had spread onto his lips. _Don't let anyone see yer 'opeful. That way only ends in tears._

"You've been there for me whenever I've needed you," Alex said softly, so softly even the cat stopped purring to hear. "You've been needed and you've been there. I could never ask for anything more. Add to that that you're loyal, brave, caring- even though you never show that to anyone- and so strong it defies belief. We all have our faults, you're no exception, but I love you. That's what matters."

_Don't let 'er see the 'ope- oh, too bloody late. What'd yer do that for, yer twonk?_

He hadn't been able to stop himself leaning up and pressing a kiss to her chin, hope shown in every inch of his face. _Nice one._

But the beam on Alex's face made it utterly worth it. _As long as no-one else ever saw him like that, _he told himself, but even he knew it wasn't true.

That was the day the Manc Lion finally managed to hope, and finally managed to trust.

The day that the shit in the world was finally eclipsed by the goodness.

* * *

><p>AN: I was thinking two pages, but this ran away with me a bit. However, I managed to escape its powerful clutches at page eight and decided to stop already. Seems a bit weird that I'm writing another chapter for an already 'completed' story, but there we go... hope you like it, and please remember to review! Thanks for reading. Jazzola


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